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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

Dr. Husband

word count: 5278

pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader

warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!

prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.

please excuse any mistakes!

Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.

For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.

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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.

Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.

For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.

About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.

You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.

Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.

“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”

This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.

The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.

Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.

Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.

Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.

It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.

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At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.

The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.

Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.

“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.

Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.

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Lunch break at last.

That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.

Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.

He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.

Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.

“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.

“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.

“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.

Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.

Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.

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“Babe, dinner is ready!”

The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.

Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.

After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.

“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.

A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.

You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.

Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.

The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.

“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”

As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”

Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”

With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.

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“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.

“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.

“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.

The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.

“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”

“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.

“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.

Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.

“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.

“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.

“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.

“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.

The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.

Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.

“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.

A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.

“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.

The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.

“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.

“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.

Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.

The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.

“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.

“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.

You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.

With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.

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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.

You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.

Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.

“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.

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Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.

“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.

You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.

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For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.

“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.

“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.

“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”

“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.

“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.

““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.

“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.

“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”

You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”

“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”

“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.

“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.

Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.

“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.

“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”

The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.

“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”

The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.

“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.

“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”

Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”

He really was too good for this world.

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a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3

taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #doctor steve rogers #doctor steve rogers x wife reader

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catalystrpg · 5 years

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Congratulations, Jordi!

Your role as Tatum Abigail Quinn, The Martyr (India Eisley) has been accepted, please make your account and send it in.

Name: jordi Age: 27 Time Zone: central

Liberty was somewhere familiar to her, the lake that she had gone to so many times before with Talon. It was their spot the place they always met up first before going other places. But Libby knew that this was not real, even though this felt like more than just a dream. She could feel the sunshine on her face, the rays beating into her skin warming her body. A man sat next to her, she could feel his skin against her hand, and his laughter filled the air like she had done something that was funny. Her eyes opened slowly adjusting to the sun that shone brightly, her fingers brushed against the man’s leg. She looked up into the face of her companion, the one that she had lost so many months ago. Talon laid next to her on the big rock that sat in the middle of the lake. Liberty smiled and turned towards him, her fingers moving to his chest. Her lips formed around those three words that meant so much to her, but she could not hear herself. All she could hear was people talking their voices did not belong there, in this happy memory. Something felt very wrong.

”I got her test results back sir, she has very strong vitals compared to some of the other subjects. One of the two devices has already been implanted.” a male’s voice spoke, his tone was very excited. Why was she at hospital? Did something happen to her. The fog in her head cleared but she felt too heavy to move. She tried to move her hands but there was no change. Opening her eyes more, Liberty tried to speak or move. Neither of which were going to happen. She pulled her arm again hearing the clamor of metal of the restraints that had her strapped to the gurney. “What’s –, “she croaked as she tried to sit up. “Why can’t I move?” she asked her voice cracking from dehydration. Her eyes searched the room for the voices. But the single dome light that hung above her made the rest of the room black, Liberty could not find where the talking was coming from.

Turning her head, her eyes landed on a small operating table that sat far enough away that she would not be able to grab any of the tools. Scalpels, clamps, and other tools she did not recognize say there sending chills down her spine. ”Let’s put her back under so we can install the other device. It’s going to go here–” the man spoke putting his finger on where her hipbone jutted out from where she was laying. Almost like he was using her as a teaching method. ”What are you doing to me!” she screamed out fighting against the restraints now, the panic forming. She remembered everything now. Being in the woods looking for Bridgette and Ethan. Then the group of men that came out of nowhere had taken her, kidnapping her from the search. Liberty pulled harder, the restraints cutting into the skin on her wrists as she struggled against them.

The IV in her arm dripped drugs into her arm, the haze washed back over her as every drop made its way through her bloodstream. What were they doing to her, but she could swear she could still feel the fingers on her skin as darkness overtook her once more.

“C'mon Talon, stop eating and help me!” Libby begged as she stood on top of a wobbly chair trying to get one of the paintings she had found on one of her runs. It was a framed copy of Monet’s Water Lillies. His house needed to feel a little bit more like a home. Their home. While they hadn’t talked about it, she assumed that she kind of lived there now. Not until she was asked to, but being at his house all the time, she already had most of her things here. Her eyes narrowed as Talon walked from the kitchen area, a open can of ravioli in his hand. He had a fork in his mouth. Liberty smiled and put her hand on her hip as she let the picture fall slightly. “Do you ever stop eating? I really need your help.” she pouted as she felt the chair wobble slightly. Talon shrugged as he stabbed another ravioli with his fork putting it into his mouth. “Well I can’t help it, I’m hungry, and we don’t need that picture hanging there anyways.” He spoke chewing the stuffed pasta as he answered. Liberty just frowned and hopped down from the chair. What else could she do, technically it was not her house yet, she was just a guest who had her own drawer. “You’re an ass! I thought you liked it.” Liberty sighed and leaned the picture against the wall. Liberty walked towards him, her bare feet barely made a sound against the hardwood floors her body covered by a t-shirt that was at least three sizes too big for her. She pressed herself into Talon snaking her arms around his body in an embrace. She didn’t want to let him go, even though he had ravioli breath. ”I love you.”

Beep….Beep…Beep… the rhythmic sounds of the heart rate monitor brought her from the deep slumber once more. She felt groggy and weak from the lack of nutrition that her captors decided to give her. The first day when they had tried to make her eat, she didn’t take it. So now she stared at the ceiling trying to come out of the anesthesia that they had been giving her for a little more than a week. How long had she been asleep? A day, a week, or even a month. Libby searched for anything that indicated how long she had been in captivity. But there was nothing, just the white walls that made her feel like she was going crazy. The dull throb in her abdomen alerted her to the surgery that they had performed a few days ago. The hospital gown that cloaked her body felt rough against her skin. Once against trying to free her hands proved to be futile again. Man these people knew how to properly restrain, but then if only Liberty knew who ‘these people’ were. Hearing the door open, Liberty stopped her movements searching for the door. “Hello?” she called out tired of hearing voices without faces to put them to. Turning her body as much as she could, she could feel the eyes on her watching her struggle. There was no reason to keep her there anymore.”Patient #00091 is ready to be detached from program.”the man said into a tape recorder as he wrote something into a file.

She could feel the soreness in her abdomen to the pain in her arms from being restrained for too long. There was no contact with anyone, her questions never got answered, Liberty was sure that they were going to kill her. Whatever this was, she didn’t want the last thing she saw was some white coat prodding her with needles for the rest of her existence. If she could find something sharp within reach, maybe she could just end it right then. Whatever they wanted from her, Liberty was going to fight like hell to keep them from having the satisfaction.

The man shot a syringe into the IV the needle piercing the plastic as if it was nothing. Maybe she should be glad that her captors were doctors. If anything she wouldn’t die because of some stupid malpractice. “You have – have to let me out of here. My son is lost.” She cried trying to reach for the white coat. Her fingers gripped lightly on the sleeve falling into the drug induced slumber once more.

Liberty felt her fingers lace with the hand next to her, Talon was so close now. They were inseparable now more than ever. Liberty knew she was making Jesse angry, because they were always making him the third wheel. Jesse never complained though. ”So if we find chocolate in here, I call dibs.” she called out quietly as she pushed open the door to the pharmacy. It was clear, the dust covered shelves were mostly empty. There were still things that could be of use. ”So what’s the plan, try to break the window?” she had asked as she ran her finger over the shelf. Her hazel eyes looked over to where Jesse and Talon were huddled over something. Laughter echoed off the wall, enticing her with the sound. Whenever the two boys got together, she ended up being the third wheel. Liberty walked over to the pharmacy window wishing she could check the glass. But obviously there was no way of breaking into this at all, the only source of medicine that could really save a life was behind the Plexiglas door. “Hey do you guys think anyone ever checked the office door?” she mused more to herself because the two were still searching the shelves like little kids on Christmas. Hell maybe they found Twinkies and that was what got them so worked up. Without really paying attention to her surroundings, Liberty turned the handle to the office slowly trying to make little noise as possible. It didn’t help at all. A walker tackled her, a scream escaped her as she fell back nearly hitting her head. She felt the cold fingers trying to claw away at her denim covered legs, “Talon!” she screamed panicking as she held onto the shoulders of her attacker. There was no way she could hold her off and reach for her knife all at the same time. Nearly a minute passed when she felt the grip loosen, her hazel eyes opened to see the hunting knife sticking out of the female’s head. She pushed the body off trying to push herself up. “Thanks for that babe.” She spoke her tone tense. Liberty couldn’t believe she had been so stupid.

Movement filled her subconscious, she could feel herself being picked up by a pair of strong arms. She was not conscious, but every sound seemed to be magnified. Liberty couldn’t move, she felt like she was paralyzed, or maybe it was just because the chloroform had kicked in. The man that was carrying her was speaking to another she assumed was the one who had been writing before. Somewhere in her mind she put the voices together, trying to connect them like a puzzle. But that door was not open to her.

The scientist walked casually speaking about what the guy needed to do. ”She needs to be taken as far away from the labs as possible. The outskirts of the forest should work.” He paused looking down at the unconscious brunette. “Patient #00091, I’m sure she will not be easy to find, hopefully the experiments don’t find her first.” He lowered his voice at the end. The older man did not have time to babysit the unconscious patient. No he had others to work on. He walked the hunter towards the opening of the hallways letting him walk out of the facility carrying the almost lifeless body into the daylight.

#rpg #original rp #skeleton rp #mature rp #zombie rp

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phawareglobal · 6 years

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Maleen Fischer - phaware® interview 191

At the age of three, Maleen Fischer was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension and, as there was no treatment for this fatal disease at the time in Austria, doctors sent her home. Her life expectancy was only a few years. Now, 20 years later, Maleen discusses early diagnosis, the joy of graduating college and the importance of global awareness.

My name is Maleen Fischer. I'm from Vienna, Austria. When I was very little, my mom, early on, she noticed when she was breastfeeding me - she just described it as thinking that I was out of breath, and she kind of from the get go, after I was born, she knew something was up. We hurried from doctor to doctor until I was diagnosed (with idiopathic pulmonary hypertension) when I was around three years old.

Back in Vienna, at that time, nobody really knew what to do with somebody with that diagnosis, and so they would just kind of say, “Well, you would have to see how it goes,” but they did not give me a very long life expectancy. My father, as determined as he is, and was specifically at that time, he found a very good hospital in New York that was working on treating pulmonary hypertension, and we went there, and we met with a wonderful doctor (Robyn J. Barst, MD) that has since passed away, unfortunately. She put me on an IV treatment that I'm still on to this day.

Now I'm 23 years old, my birthday was in May. I'm doing very well, so I can be very thankful for my family who really didn't want to give up. Now, when I still think back to New York, it's a very hate/love kind of relationship to just think back to that time. On one hand, it's a beautiful city, and I was always so impressed with everything. My parents, obviously, also tried to make it a great time, always. And, on the other hand, having the doctor's visits, being put on a pump, on an IV system, and I just remember when we were picking out the first bags and backpacks to put the pump in. This kind of journey, to kind of adapt to a whole new lifestyle.

I find myself, in this situation, very lucky that I was diagnosed so early on, so I could get used to this lifestyle for many years. I would assume it's very difficult to be diagnosed at a much later age. I must say I'm very lucky, I've always had friends that were really respecting and accepting of the whole situation. My neighbor, we kind of grew up together, and she knew me even before the pump, as little babies.

I did not go to Kindergarten. I was homeschooled throughout those years and then all the way to high school. And then, what I did in high school was I went, for the first time, into a real school, because with pulmonary hypertension we take into account how many steps we walk during school, and also how young the children are and how understanding they are of not ripping away a backpack. When high school time came around we said, “Okay, this would be the time where we could try out to actually go to a school." I went to a very small school in Florida, and it was completely flat, so no stairs and a very small amount of students. This was the first time I was actually in high school and experiencing other teenagers. It was kind of funny because it really incorporated all the high school drama, first boyfriend love story, whatever, in a very short amount of time. I actually felt very normal during that time, I have to say.

When I was diagnosed, this disease was not known, and so my dad and I, we really did a lot of awareness work; and it started just right after I was put on that pump. We did all types of newspaper reports on it, or documentations. Always my goal was to really get the word out there about this disease, because during our time of working in awareness, we've had so many stories of people coming to us saying, “Because of you, because I saw this show, or because I saw this report, or this news article, I went to the doctor and I actually have pulmonary hypertension”.

When I went into my teenage years I thought, “What can I really do to kind of emphasize that even more? What could give people hope at the same time as kind of give other people a perspective of what pulmonary hypertension really means, and what it does to a life?” From the good parts to the bad parts. That, in the end, was essentially how I ended up writing a book. It really also shows my journey as a person, because the book changed drastically when a few certain situations happened within those, let's say two and a half to three years I was working on it. When it started out, I was speaking about how it was like to go to New York, being put on this medication, living with this medication, going through high school with this medication.

I believe it was in my last year of high school, I had an extremely bad case of an appendicitis and it was overlooked. I can't really figure out, or can't remember the medical term for it, but I had an abnormal appendix so you could not see it on an X-ray and I was sent home with antibiotics, and a day later my appendix ruptured. I was intubated, which we all know is really bad for pulmonary hypertension patients, anybody but specifically us. I was just doing really bad. I barely remember that time, to be honest. I had a sepsis, of course, multiple blood transfusions. This was a time where, of course, throughout my lifetime there was always a lot of uncertainty; but at this point you could really feel, “Okay, I am definitely not invincible, and things happen and things can get really bad.”

I somehow recovered from that, and then, what you have afterwards, the effects, trying to bring your saturation up again, trying to be able to breathe comfortably and with enough saturation, without oxygen masks and the compression masks. And this was really the turning point where I figured, “Okay, this is where I add on to the book, and this is also my way of coping.”

After I finished high school in Florida, and I also did my tests and certifications in Austria, then I looked at colleges. I looked at options that I had, and I wanted to stay in Vienna just because I had a good net of doctors here, and I felt very comfortable here also with my friends and family, and so I found a great college here. This was also the first time that I was a little more detached from my parents. It felt very nice. I know a lot of people say that college is the best time of your life. I don't know about that exactly, but it certainly was a wonderful time and I met so many great people.

It had the same effect to me as high school did, a little bit. It made me feel very normal. In between that, I had some issues with my condition and with the pump, all sorts of things, random things you can think about; but then I also had normal problems like studying for tests, or just mundane things that you really appreciate more, I feel like.

In May, I had my graduation. I was very happy I could graduate with a lot of my friends, actually. My best friend that I had known also still before the pump, and she has a very similar name as mine, it's Marlene, and mine is Maleen, so people would always just call us “M&Ms” instead of having to say the whole name. It was very nice because we would joke around as kids that we would graduate from the same college, and we did. We ended up doing that, and it never even seemed like that was an option.

I worked very hard for those four years, I was very ambitious, and I figured, “If you go on this journey, you're going to college, you might as well just try your best.” Generally, I have this type of personality that I just need to at least try as much as I can in order to feel like, “Okay, if I give it my all if it doesn't work out then I guess it wasn't meant to be.” Luckily, it was good. I graduated with high honors and we had just a great time graduating all together and it was a really, really nice experience. I smile back just thinking about it, and I'm really also just going to miss the whole experience, but I think grad school is definitely going to be a new chapter. Also, at one point, I want to hopefully be working more. I'm looking forward to that.

The advice I would have for somebody that would be newly diagnosed, walking out of a doctor's office, I would say sometimes not everything that doctors tell you has to be taken exactly word for word. Prove them wrong, and so if you get a bad diagnosis you don't have to take it as it is. Don't put your life to a complete stop. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't take the time a little bit to figure out what to do next, but keep going with the things that you want to do. Not everything might still be an option for you, but there are things that you can still do.

Everybody has so many choices in life. That's a beautiful thing about life. You have so many choices, and if one thing doesn't work out, it doesn't mean that that is the only thing you need to limit yourself to. You can find an alternative. Just go for it, and do it, because even if you feel bad sometimes, that success, or sometimes just doing something that makes you happy, it will make you feel better.

It's always so important to create awareness, and awareness does not need to be going on national television or doing crazy things. You can just simply, honestly tell people that you meet about this disease. Bring it to the attention of other people, and that can already make a difference. That will also make it easier for them to understand, because people are just naturally curious.

And, the second thing would be, if you find yourself in a hole or you think that something's wrong with you because you're just super depressed and other people that you see are coping with the disease so well... It's like Instagram, honestly, most of the time you see really positive things about other people, and even people that have been diagnosed will maybe just tell you the positive things, or tell you that they're coping well. If people feel like they're not doing well just because sometimes they're depressed or sometimes they don't really know what to do anymore because of the disease, I think everybody feels like that every now and then. Just never feel like an outsider because of that.

My name is Maleen Fischer, and I'm aware that I'm rare.

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